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Wednesday, 26 April 2017

Two months in already - time just flies by. And again we had a big week - five incredible entries for last week's photo!

This week I have gone with a face. It was a struggle to find the creator of this incredible image because their current page on Deviant Art is empty. But two sources confirmed that it is indeed called 'Dragon Incarnate' and was created/copyrighted by LuckyWolf13 (Lauren from the US).

The story I imagined coming out of this picture turned into something else, and refused to change to what I wanted - as stories are often wont to do. And it pushed the Word Count too. But I do rather like it. Hope you do too.

Avilijn sat
in front of the mirror watching the tracer work on the intricate design on the
left side of her face. She remained stock still as the heat of the needle left behind
its black ink creating a depiction of her latest conquest for all to see.

This latest
scrollwork made it clear that she wasn’t to be trifled with. It made it clear
she was a woman of strength and means. She felt a flush of pride, her mind
turning to what she needed to do to have designs on the right side.

Her musing
was interrupted by Finnella, who fluttered in behind her in awe and anxiety.

“Calm your
wings Finnella, and tell me what news?”

“Word has
spread my lady, more will come to try and defeat you.”

Avilijn
smiled, her eyes flashing. “Good. I need more.”

“There is
talk of Falcroon showing up.”

Avilijn’s
mouth opened as her eyes sparkled. “Oh yes, taking him would be my pleasure.”

Avilijn
pictured Falcroon and his oversized wings. The way he would always flex them
whenever a pretty fledgling would go by while still in conversation with
another. He thought he was such a hot shot. Would he really dare to come and
take her on? She wondered. Would he be vain enough to risk his life? Would
pride be his downfall?

The pecking
order was strong, and she had to keep them all in place now. Since her father’s
demise many had tried to usurp her and turn the skies into chaos, but she was
responsible for maintaining peace at all costs – something Hawkseye had found
out to his detriment ... and death.

Falcroon
was coming to defend his honour. They had always had an intimate alliance:
brothers in blood. She’d heard of their comradeship during the War of the
Kestrel Marshes, but he had to understand that compliance was going to be the only
way, and if that meant bloodshed then so be it. She wasn’t afraid.

A messenger
arrived and she waited for Finnella to speak to them. When Finnella turned, the
fearful bright eyes that met hers in the mirror told her all she needed to
know.

“When is he
coming?”

“At evening
song.”

Avilijn
glanced at the artist who had lifted the needle from her face. “Time to prepare
for the right side decoration.”

The artist
gave her a bob of the head as Avilijn rose to take on her next contender.

***

Avilijn
stretched her turquoise and black wings, the magnificent glint causing gasps
from the crowd, who had begun to gather in the archaic atrium since word had
spread of the challenge.

Falcroon was
more subdued than Avilijn expected. Was he nervous? Or was this something he
didn’t want to do? But he was the one who had requested the duel, so it was his
choice. She waited for his move.

But he
didn’t swoop, instead he spoke.

“Princess,
I am deeply hurt by the loss of my blood brother. Some believe I come to avenge
his death, but I am not foolish enough to try. Instead I ask you to take my
life too, so I can rejoin with him in eternity.”

Avilijn
struggled to hide her annoyance. This wasn’t what she wanted. She wasn’t here
to grant wishes, or be some kind of public executioner. What game was he
playing?

“Falcroon
we are known to each other. If you aren’t here to challenge me, then you pledge
fealty. I offer nothing else.”

He
surprised her by flying low and bowing his head, offering the back of his neck;
an act of submission. And one she had to acknowledge.

She flew
over him in acceptance, but rather than remaining in position, Falcroon twisted
just as her talons crossed over him, stretching his head back and up, exposing
his neck. Before Avilijn could react a claw sliced through his skin, sweeping
across it – deep. Blood gushed, as his body fell limp to the ground below.

Avilijn
circled in shocked dismay. He had manipulated her into granting his wish, but this
also placed her in a precarious position of an unwarranted kill, something
which could upset the balance of power.

Damn him!
He had not only avenged Hawkseye’s death, but achieved Hawkseye’s original
intent.

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Last week's photo prompt set a record at 5 wonderful entries! Such a diverse range of stories too. I love seeing how people are inspired. I am hoping this image will do the same.

I ummed and arhhed over the choice for this week's photo, as there are just SO many waiting to be used. I want to provide something new and fresh each week, and not the same sort of photo either, as well as a prompt that provides ample possibilities. I'm hoping this one does.

This photo was taken by Sirombo (Luca) from Italy over on Deviant Art.

My tale this week is actually based on the novel I have been working on, which is in the final editing stages. It gives a good outline of it, although it is set 10years on.

Lizzy
stooped to pick up the feather stuck in the pebbles on the beach. She ran it
through her fingers as she looked out to sea at the setting sun. It was a sign,
she knew it.

Feathers
had always shown up at significant times in her life: a turquoise one had
landed on her windowsill the day before Steve had asked her out; a tiny brown
one had been on the dashboard in her car the day he had proposed, and a
beautiful white one had fluttered in through the kitchen window the day before
her wedding. They had all signified good things. And this one did too. This one signified freedom.

She inhaled
deeply, taking in the sea air, something she hadn’t been able to do for over
ten years. Instead she had been stuck in a prison cell looking at four grey
walls twenty hours a day. It was the penance you paid for losing your mind and
taking your husband’s life.

She sighed,
still feeling the weight of what she had done deep inside her chest. The last
time she’d walked on a beach she’d been with Steve on a holiday they’d taken to
try and recover from the loss of their second child. They’d splashed out and
gone to the Maldives, a dream destination for Lizzy. With Steve’s
modelling career taking off they’d been able to afford it.

It had
helped a bit; they’d reconnected a little, although the return home had not
gone as well as hoped with his parents forgetting to cancel the delivery of the
pram. It had stood there in the entrance hall, taunting her when they’d arrived.

Gosh that
all seemed so long ago. Another lifetime. She could recall the feelings but
they didn’t cut her like they used to. She had something new to cut herself up
about instead; something much bigger. And now she was out, the pain of what she
had done was much keener.

In the
years running up to the murder her head had become fuzzy, full of angry noise,
bitterness and resent. And during her first years inside it hadn’t cleared; it
had only become foggier as more negative emotions had swallowed her up: guilt,
shame and despair. Now she stood here, finally out, on a beach in the crisp
evening air, there was no noise in her head, no anger, there was only sadness
and a gratitude at the chance for a fresh start.

Lizzy took
in another deep breath and turned her back on the sunset. But before she could
begin on that, she had to face the people and the memories from the past, the
last part of her penance. But the arrival of the grey feather was a positive
sign, and one she clung to as she headed back up the beach.

Wednesday, 12 April 2017

It seems that last week's challenge was a hit, with 4 wonderful entries. I hope we can eventually top that, but I am very happy it spoke to so many people. I am hoping this image will do the same.

Despite hours trawling search engines, I can not find the person who took this photo - the key site that it seems to link to is currently 'under construction'. But it appears on thousands of pinterest boards, so I was able to find out where it was:

The Chateau de Singes (Castle of Monkeys) is really the Château à
Cahaignes (Castle Cahaignes), located in Cahaignes, Eure, Upper
Normandy, France. Abandoned in 1976.

She could
see the cracks of light falling on the floor, so knew that stepping through the
door would not lead her into darkness. And she could even see more doors in the
distance so she knew it wasn’t a trap, so what held her on the threshold?

It could only
be fear – but fear of what? Fear that it would not take her anywhere; that the
time and effort to go through and find out it was a dead-end would take too
much from her. She had been through so many doors like this, with the light
shining in, only to find that they were empty, devoid of the life and
connection she sought. She wasn’t sure she could deal with the overwhelming
disappointment again.

But
standing her on the threshold was no solution; she gained nothing standing here
– she knew that. You gained nothing without risk. Sometimes you had to take a
leap and hope for the best, and try and not anticipate what might come; try and
embrace the moment and have no expectation.

She heard
the creak of another door in the distance. She heard the chatter of voices.

Her heart
yearned to be a part of them, to join in and feel alive again, feel a part of
something. She had been trapped in this place for so long, she could only
fantasise what it might be like.

Her toes
tingled as the voices drew nearer. Shadows moved further ahead in the corridor
she was looking into. They would come round the corner at any moment. They
would face her and she would see them. If she could just step forward she could
greet them, she could walk with them and hear their conversation properly and
not just snippets. But she could not compel herself to do so.

“... just a
simple mark on her skin ... hidden away ... fear of reprisal ...”

Thursday, 6 April 2017

Here's my entry for the new Horror Bites challenge, hosted by Laura Jamez. A a photo
prompt challenge, where you have to write a horror piece to a set word
count.

Mandy
rolled a gel ball around between her fingers. She found the motion soothing.
She needed soothing after the row they’d just had. He’d stormed out as usual,
revved the engine of his motorbike and squealed off up the road.

She didn’t
have the luxury of buggering off when things got tough. She couldn’t drive. It’s
how he liked to keep her: financially dependent, kids, unable to read, and
unable to drive. He’d kept her this way since she was fifteen. He liked the
control it gave him – and she knew it.

But he didn’t
know she did.

He thought
she was dumb, but the older she got the more she understood. And once she’d
discovered audio books, she’d understood a whole lot more.

She looked
at the gel balls in the glass, how they were clear at the top and grew darker
as they reached the bottom – although the ones at the bottom weren’t gel, they
were metal.

The
doorbell rang. She opened the door a crack and saw two uniformed policemen
standing there.

“Mrs
McNally?”

“Yes?”

“I’m PC
Banes. Does your husband own a Honda GTX motorcycle?”

“Yes.”

“May we
come in?”

Mandy
opened the door and led them into the lounge. They remained standing.

“I’m afraid
we have some bad news for you. I think you might need to sit down.”

Mandy sat,
her eyes on the PC. “We’re not quite sure how it happened yet, but it appears
your husband lost control of the bike ...”

Mandy
caught sight of her phone while the PC continued to tell her how her husband
hadn’t made it to the hospital alive. She glanced down at it and saw it was
still on; the book she had been listening was still playing. It was what had
caused the row – him finding out she’d been listening to books.

Fortunately
it was a different one to the book she’d been studying the last few weeks. That
one had helped her through the difficult bits when tinkering with his motorbike
in the garage while he’d been out at work.

He carried the
pain around with him as though it was on display. He thought others could see
it as though his chest were made of glass and people could see inside, see
the damaged darkness where there was once a heart – once a happy healthy heart,
full of joy and love and giving. But it was no more. It was now an aching husk of
darkness that poisoned his body, draining it of energy, of any desire, of any point
of being.

He wanted
it to end, but he didn’t have the guts to. He couldn’t quite bring himself to
step out of this life. There was guilt at what it might do to those around
him, those that felt they were good and close friends. And there were those
that flung the word selfish around when people took their lives, whichled him
back to the guilt. Although he always believed that was a reflection of
themselves: how they felt wrong and selfish for not understanding. No one knows
the pain another suffers, let alone should judge it.

He imagined
being free of this pain; imagined throwing off the shackles of the dead weight
it brought to his life. But it did little to change anything. She was gone. She
was just a shadow in his heart. She had come, wrought her damage and left.
Turned her back and walked away. He could even see her in his mind’s eye,
walking away across a field, while he was unable to move or call out and stop her.

It was the
risk he had taken; one he would never take again – or so he told himself.

And one more belated entry for Horror Bites, hosted by Laura Jamez, to bring me up to speed, and ready for the new challenge. A a photo prompt challenge, where you have to write a horror piece to a set word count.

My entry to challenge #5

Mist

Reg
frantically rubbed at the inside of the windscreen, but it made no difference,
the mist was outside, not in the car. It had come on so suddenly it unnerved
him. He hated driving at night as it was. It served him right for taking up
tennis in the winter months; driving home in the dark was a given with dusk
falling at 4pm. He was a summer person, he hated winter.

He swerved sharply
to miss someone standing at the edge of the road. He looked in his rear view
mirror but the mist had enveloped them. Who would want to be out in this?

Then there was
another. He just spotted them in time, hearing the screech of his tyres as they
twisted on the wet road. But as he avoided them another came into view, until all
he could see along either side of the road were outlines of people.

In the dim
foggy light he couldn’t make out their features, but they didn’t seem to be
moving very fast. He slowed down, wondering where they were had come from.
Could there be some kind of concert in the area? It was all countryside round
these parts, but surely it was too cold for one of them raves.

At the
reduced speed some of their features came into view. Reg wondered if he was
seeing things; they all seemed to be slack jawed with their mouths hanging open
and arms dangling at their sides. And he was so busy staring he didn’t spot the
few that had wandered into the road until he felt the thud of a body hitting
the bonnet.

He came to
a sharp halt, and jumped out, running round to the front of the car to see who
he had hit. It was a bad move. He didn’t see them turn towards him as he
squatted down to check the pulse of the person on the ground, and as he readied
himself to give mouth to mouth resuscitation he didn’t look up.

He was
pushed forward onto the body as someone fell on top of him, and when another
body fell on top of that he was pinned to body on the ground. He felt the last of
the air in his lungs expel when several more dropped on top, and as he lay gasping,
all Reg could think was how he planned to have pasta for his tea.

Horror Bites, hosted by Laura Jamez, has started up again, reminding me that I am not up to date with my entries, so here is my entry to #3.

It is a photo prompt challenge, where you have to write a horror piece to a set word count.

When she returned to the seating he was gone; only his empty
juice box remained. Maggie ran her hand through her hair as her eyes scoured the
platform. He couldn’t have gone far.

Most mother’s would worry someone had snatched their kid,
but not Maggie. She knew better. He’d been encouraged to play hide and seek
again. She’d tried to teach him that he needed to keep control in public
places, but he was still too young, Jake would get the better of him. She
sighed and bit her lip. People didn’t take kindly to Jake’s games – they hurt.
She’d lost count of the amount of times they’d ended up in the police station.

She caught a glimpse of blond hair as a woman leapt forward
suddenly clutching the back of her leg. Maggie moved in that direction, taking
her time, acting nonchalant. If Jake thought he had been spotted it could get
dangerous. Then she heard a ‘Hey!’ shouted from the other end of the platform.

People were starting to look round, nervous expressions on
their faces.

“Where ARE you?” Maggie muttered under her breath. She stood
still and saw movement in her peripheral vision. She stuck out an arm behind
her and grabbed, catching material. Then she heard a rip and her hand was empty.
Damn!

A woman screamed and she heard shouting from a guard.
Christ, he was escalating; this could get really bad.

Then the rumble of an approaching train began and people
started moving forward to the edge of the platform. Maggie moved backwards even
though this was their train. Jake would be weaving through people; it’s what he
liked doing best. She would get a better view from behind.

She saw what appeared to be jostling to the right and moved
in fast. She needed to grab him now. She didn’t want to think about what would
happen if someone ended up pushed onto the platform.

She lunged between two people, startling them, and caught
the collar of a coat, yanking a wriggling child back. As she dragged Jake back she
ignored the judgmental looks, only registering his eyes rolling, and the dark irises.
He turned and bared his teeth at her, snapping at her hands as she firmly took
hold of his face and crouched down in front of him.

“Alfie? Come back right now. Do you hear me? I need you back
right now!” She held the shaking head steady, ignoring the growls, and waited. “Alfie!
We need to go now!”

Movement reduced as blue returned to the irises and the eyes
stopped rolling. They focused on her. He smiled. “Hey mummy.”

“Hey baby, time to go.”

“Do we have to? Jake likes it here.”

“I can see he does, but Alfie, Jake has to stay hidden you
know that.”